


Ever Since The Rain

by murgamurg



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4539330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murgamurg/pseuds/murgamurg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoro's driving home from a surprise night out with his cook. Sanji gets a phonecall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ever Since The Rain

Zoro let his hands rest loose on the steering wheel, watching the dashes painted on the asphalt whizz past his tires. He allowed the small, smug smile to creep its way onto his face, knowing his blonde copilot would immediately notice.

“Wipe that thing off your face, moron. Smug doesn’t suit you, you know,” Ah, right on time.

He glanced sidelong at his husband, letting the smile stretch into his favorite, shit-eating smirk. “You sure about that, curly cook?”

Blue eyes rolled as the man scoffed. “Shut up, dumbass,” He spat with a sharp smack to Zoro’s shoulder, and turned to look out his window. “But… thanks. For tonight.”

Tonight they’d gone to a new upscale bistro the next town over. Sanji had been talking about it for weeks; the food, the atmosphere, some article he read online that gave it a scathing review despite all the critical acclaim. But they had never found the time to go. So, when the cook had come home tired and stressed from the restaurant, he found Zoro dressed in a smart button down, his nicest jeans, and the forest green sweater vest Sanji bought him for his 30th birthday. Seeing the cook’s face light up like that was completely worth the following few hours of discomfort and stuffy food.

Zoro turned his attention back to the road. He removed one hand, letting it fall palm up between them. Sanji covered it with his own, and laced their fingers together, giving a light squeeze. It was their own silent reassurance, and Zoro felt his chest swell. He could never get tired of making Sanji happy.

Their moment was interrupted by the shrill tweedling of what Zoro recognized as Sanji’s phone. The blonde removed his hand to pat around in his tailored brown leather jacket, finally fishing it out of the inner pocket.

“Allô?”

Zoro was  focused on the road, but was listening to the mumbling voice on the other end of the line intently. It wasn’t like the cook to pick up the phone when they were having a night out, even if they were on the way home. It was against his sensibilities, he found it rude.

He was trying to place the voice. He couldn’t quite make out the words in the quiet interior of the vehicle, and it didn’t sound like the gruff grumbling of Sanji’s adoptive father. It was an uneven staccato of deep tones, and he glanced over to find confusion and frustration on the blonde’s face.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Patty? If the old man wants to talk to me, then he can just--”

So it was someone from the Baratie. That explains why Sanji picked up the phone, at least.

“... _What_?”

Zoro looked over again at his husband. Something serious was happening, if the color draining from the other man’s face was any indication. His mouth was hanging open slightly, still listening to the voice on the other end prattle away. Blue eyes flicked over to Zoro’s face, and the green haired man watched him school his face into something placid.

“Okay… let me know when you assholes work everything out. I’ll catch a flight in the morning.”

 _A flight in the morning?_ Zoro’s curiosity was almost unbearable at this point. What could possibly be happening that he’d need to catch a flight to France? He was certainly not looking forward to spending time apart from the other man.

“Oui. Salut.” He sighed, hanging up, placing the phone back in his jacket.

Zoro glanced over again. The blonde was now gazing out the window, rubbing his hand slowly over his mouth. He resisted the urge to berate the man with questions about the conversation; if he was patient, Sanji would surely offer the information willingly.

“It’s the old man,” He choked out, and Zoro realized he was trying to keep himself from crying. “He’s gone. Heart attack while prepping for the dinner rush.”

Oh. _No._ Oh shit. Zoro knew Sanji’s relationship with his father figure was strained at best, but Zeff had taken him off the streets of Paris and raised him like his own child. Despite their disagreements, he knew Sanji loved the old man more than he’d ever say.

“Are you--” He started to ask, but Sanji cut him off.

“I’m fine,” He said quickly. “Can we stop somewhere?”

Zoro let out a long sigh. They were just getting back into town, maybe another fifteen minutes from their flat. Sanji knew this too, but if he wanted to stop, they would stop.

“Sure,” He replied, pulling into the lot for a small strip mall.  

They got out of the car in silence, and walked down the esplanade. Sanji was biting his lip and fidgeting with his fingers, jonesing for a cigarette. Zoro had only been to this location a handful of times, but recognized the small theater as one he and Sanji had gone to for one of their first dates. It contained other small shops as well, a local bar, and most importantly, a convenience store.

“I think I’m gonna hang out here,” Sanji said when they approached the automatic doors.

“Alright,” Zoro replied, giving him a wry smile. “I’ll only be a sec.”

Sanji nodded, not meeting his eyes, and turned to lean against a bricked pillar that held up the covered walkway. Zoro was concerned about his odd behavior, but entered the store anyway.

A few minutes later he emerged to find Sanji hadn’t moved.

He turned hearing Zoro approach. “Did you get--”

“Yep,” Zoro replied, pushing the carton of cigarettes into his hands. The other man let out a hissed _yes_ and promptly extracted one to light up.

They stood in silence as Sanji smoked, and Zoro sipped on a small bottle of Coca-cola, wishing it was a beer instead. He observed the man he’d bound his life to, blonde hair almost white and illuminated by the store’s fluorescent lights. He watched as the man’s elegant jaw clenched and unclenched, thousand yard stare fading into the distance. He’d seen Sanji deal with emotional turmoil before, but the dejected and melancholy air that now surrounded his bright and vibrant cook bothered him. He knew that Sanji’s grief would come in waves, and he’d be the one there to pick up the pieces.

Sanji dropped his cigarette to the concrete, snuffing it out underneath a finely hewn italian leather shoe. He turned to Zoro, still not meeting his eyes.

“We can go now. Sorry,” He said.

“Hey,” Zoro grabbed his arm before he could turn back to the car. “I’m here, you know.”

Sanji finally met his eyes. “I know,” He replied sadly, quietly.

Zoro pulled the other man close and pressed a slow and tender kiss to his lips. He’d always loved the cook’s taste after a cigarette; bitter and sour and so very Sanji.

When they broke the kiss, Sanji let out a long sigh, his forehead resting on Zoro’s own.

“Shitty moss,” He said under his breath, like a curse.  

Zoro turned them towards the car, and guided the cook back, his arm around the other man’s shoulder. “Let’s go home, love cook.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a oneshot for some stress relief. Unfortunately this topic hits close to home for me right now. Catharsis.


End file.
